SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 775: How Much He's Grown

"Hey, Barth." Trafalgar looked him over, unhurried. "How've you been? It's been a few months. And you're still shooting up, by the look of it. You're looking good."

"You think?" Barth's hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing at it. "The students say that a lot, actually."

"The students." Trafalgar's mouth tugged. "The girls, you mean. Sounds like you're popular."

Colour crept up Barth's face, quick and telling, and Trafalgar knew he'd hit the mark dead on.

"Come in, before you overheat on my doorstep." He stepped back to let him through. "Fair warning, your sister's been tearing the place apart top to bottom since before dawn. Every room. Twice."

"That's..." Barth huffed a small laugh. "Well. It's been a while since we've seen each other. That tracks, honestly."

Trafalgar led him around through the gardens rather than straight in, the long way toward the front of the house. They'd nearly reached the entrance when something across the grounds caught his eye and stopped him where he stood.

Silas was out in the far stretch of the garden, and he wasn't playing.

He was drilling. Working through a set of movements with the focus of someone who'd been at it a while, mana curling off him with each one, tight and held. Trafalgar had left a loud, half-wild creature behind when he rode out for the mine. What stood across the garden now moved with purpose, every motion tighter than the last, the strength in him banked instead of spilling out everywhere at once. Caelvyrn's teaching showed in all of it.

Trafalgar watched for a second and glanced at Barth. "How do you feel about a small detour? Cynthia can wait a little longer."

"I don't mind." Barth hesitated, casting a nervous look toward the house. "But won't she be angry? She's put the whole morning into this."

"Hm. We'll tell her something came up outside and we had to lend a hand." Trafalgar was already turning toward the garden. "She'll never know the difference."

"If you say so." Barth fell in beside him, though not without a last glance back at the house. "She'll know, you realize. She always knows."

"What is it you want to do out here?" he added, catching up.

"Just to see how far Silas has come." Trafalgar kept his voice easy. "You haven't laid eyes on him in months either. He'll be glad to see you, I'd wager."

"Oh, Silas." Barth's face brightened at the name. "Right. Yes, let's. It's been ages."

They crossed the grass toward him.

Silas hadn't noticed them yet. He was in his human form, the one he wore around the house, though the two horns still curved back from his head the way they always did, no hiding those.

Right now he was mid-skill, a move borrowed from whatever he'd last eaten, because that was how Silas worked. Whatever he devoured, he could turn into power, into skills and pieces of other classes, the same monstrous gift his father the Gluttony Dragon had carried. It made ordinary food useless to him and made him, on paper, absurdly unfair. He had limits. Not many people ever got to feel where they were.

Not so far off from Barth's own knack, when you thought about it. The boy could pick up skills from a dozen scattered classes and stitch them into a style all his own. The two of them had that much in common, though only one of them came with claws.

Trafalgar watched him work, and the old thought circled back, the one that had been surfacing more and more of late. Silas wasn't the small creature he'd taken in years ago, a mouth to feed and a handful of trouble to mind. He was turning into something the world would have to answer for one day, and he was getting there fast.

They slowed as they drew close, neither wanting to break his focus. Silas snapped through the last of the movement, quick and low, claws out on the strike, and Trafalgar recognized the move. Some beast out of the Euclid forest, one of the ones prowling the tree line. The woods had grown thick with prey as the city pushed its borders outward, and the boy had clearly been making the most of them. Every beast he ran down and devoured was another handful of tricks folded into that arsenal of his.

Silas turned, and saw them.

"Trafalgar! Barth!" His whole face split into a grin.

"Morning, Silas." Barth smiled at him, warm. "How've you been keeping? It's been too long."

"I've been training," Silas said, straightening up with open pride. "Learning to hold all the mana properly. I'm really good at it now."

"We saw." Trafalgar tipped his head. "You did well. A season ago you couldn't hold a borrowed skill for three breaths before the mana slipped loose. That held. Whoever's been drilling you has earned their keep."

"Right?" Silas puffed his chest out, thoroughly pleased with himself.

It got a laugh out of Barth, who reached over and ruffled the boy's hair, careful of the horns. "Yeah, yeah. You did well."

Silas leaned into it a second before squinting up at him. "What's the visit for, Barth?"

"What do you mean, what's it for?" Barth said. "Can't I come see everyone? My sister lives here, my best friend's here, and so are you. That's reason enough, isn't it?"

Silas went a little pink at that, plainly pleased at being counted among the reasons. "...Yeah."

"So, Silas." Trafalgar folded his arms, easy. "Before we get into anything else. Why didn't you come and say hello when I got back yesterday?"

"I was asleep." Silas said it like that closed the case. "I was tired."

"Fair enough." Trafalgar let it go, amusement tugging at him. He looked the boy over once, weighing him. "Let me ask you something, then. Can you shift into your real form for a moment? The dragon one. I want to see how much you've grown."